Page 58 of Hotter in the Hamptons

“I’ve been a little busy,” Aly said, glancing at Lola.

The hostess hugged Lola too. “Well, aren’t you gorgeous,” she said, and Lola blushed. “I bet you assumed I’d just have a table for you,” the hostess said to Aly, glancing behind her where the dimly lit restaurant was packed with a growing weekend buzz. People on dates curled toward each other around small tables, slowly sipping martinis, cutting their mains with delicate hands. Larger groups of friends laughed around bottles of wine and seafood towers. Servers with their arms loaded with plates squeezed between tables.

“Do you not?” Aly’s raised eyebrow calling the hostess’s bluff.

“Well, of course I do.” She grinned. “But it’s rude to assume, you know.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Aly said. “Assuming and free tables.”

Aly held Lola’s hand as the hostess took them to a corner table with a view of the bay. Lola was surprised by the easy affection. She hadn’t been sure if Aly would be down with PDA, if she’d be okay with people knowing about their relationship. Or their situationship. Whatever this was.

The restaurant was oozing with charm. Leafy green plants snaked around rattan chandeliers. Just outside the windows, inky-black waves licked the white sand while boats rocked gently against a dock.

“Are you trying to impress me?” Lola asked.

“That depends. Are you impressed?”

“Very.”

Aly grinned at her. The waiter came over before Lola had even opened the menu.

“We’ll do a bottle of Sangiovese,” Aly said. “And we’ll start with a dozen oysters. Whichever ones the chef recommends. Then we’ll split an arugula salad. She’ll have the steak, and I’ll do the fish. Oh, and a basket of bread, please.”

The waiter nodded and left.

Lola was speechless, mouth left open and gaping like the expensive and—if Lola had to guess—delicious fish that Aly just ordered.

Aly looked up at her, noting her surprise.

“Is that not what you wanted?”

“No, I…” Lola paused. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”

Aly shrugged, looking pleased with herself. “I had a feeling.”

“How?”

“I pay attention,” Aly said. “I mean, how many times have we seen each other out to dinner at this point? How many meals have you posted on your Instagram? Which is totally cliché, by the way, but also proves very helpful when, let’s just say, someone like me is agonizing about how to plan the perfect first date with someone like you.” Aly winked her way. “I know what you eat.”

“You insta-stalked me?” Lola asked, her mouth turning up in a dopey expression.

“I’m ajournalist, Lola. It’s what I do.”

“You insta-stalked me,” she said again definitively, her heart swelling into her throat.

So Alyhadbeen watching Lola, just as Lola had been watching her.And not only that but she had learned what Lola liked. Aly wanted to take care of her. To show her a nice time. It was startlingly romantic.

“I like your style, Carter,” Lola added.

“I know you do,” Aly replied.

“So tell me about coming here every summer,” Lola said. “That must have been nice.”

“It was nice and also lonely. There’s not a lot for teens to do, and my parents’ friends didn’t have kids my age. I mostly just read books and felt sorry for myself. In hindsight, I was being a total fucking brat.”

“I can see that,” Lola said, fighting a grin. It wasn’t hard to picture.

“How did you spendyoursummers growing up?”

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